


Color and Sound

by FourCatProductions



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Crushes, F/F, Femslash February, First Kiss, Fluff, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 17:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17882465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FourCatProductions/pseuds/FourCatProductions
Summary: In another life, two women meet at the College of Winterhold.





	1. Pink

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raunchyandpaunchy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raunchyandpaunchy/gifts).



> A Femslash February gift for raunchyandpaunchy, whose OC Nadine is one of my favorites (and fun to write, too!). Nadine is the star of her fic The Edged Lexicon, which you can find here on Ao3.
> 
> Done for the color prompts for this year's Femslash February.

She was quick to blush, Rhiannon Amorell – Nadine had never known anyone whose skin betrayed them so faithlessly. Angry, embarrassed, anxious, it was all the same: her cheeks and throat grew blotchy, her freckles standing out in stark relief, and some part of Nadine wanted to smooth the wrinkle that formed between her brows without fail. Not that she ever did. They were friends, the way proximity had made friends out of most of the apprentices, but Rhiannon drifted through life at the College a few paces removed, like there was an invisible barrier between her and the rest of the world. Nobody knew anything about her, save that she was from Cyrodiil and her talents lay in the house of Restoration, and she didn’t seem to care to get to know any of them. After lessons, everyone else would gather in the common rooms to squabble over theories and swap lecture notes, but Rhiannon remained holed up in her quarters, tending to the plants she kept there. Sometimes Nadine heard her humming in the middle of the night, but more often than not she was so quiet that she might as well have been on another plane of existence.

It was this behavior, Nadine suspected, that led the other apprentices to tease her so, partly because she was an easy target and partly because Colette had made a pet out of her. It didn’t help that all it took was a pointed glance or snicker to rile her, when most of the time she was so passive; indeed, the only time she ever seemed truly present was when she blushed.

An idle observation, but once made, she found it difficult not to notice other things: the flecks of green in Rhiannon’s hazel eyes, the faint scent of pollen and fresh earth that clung to her robes, the dimple in her cheek whenever she offered up one of her rare smiles. There was nothing outwardly remarkable about her, nothing that would cause anyone to stop and take a second look, but when she smiled, Nadine found herself unable to look away. It was disconcerting, though not unpleasantly so. She had to wonder how she’d never seen it before.

She didn’t say anything, of course. Didn’t approach the subject, tried not to dwell, even as her fascination grew – she knew better than to dream the attraction might be mutual, not when Rhiannon demonstrated so little interest in people compared to plants. But then they ran into each other in the Arcanium one afternoon, each looking for a copy of the text Phinis had assigned before their next Conjuration lecture, and when Nadine smiled at her, Rhiannon tentatively smiled back. They ended up at one of the tables in the corner, talking in soft voices so as not to incur Urag’s wrath, and it wasn’t long before Rhiannon invited her (shyly, oh-so-shyly) to come see her miniature alchemical garden sometime, were she so inclined.

What could Nadine do but say yes, she’d love to? Before she could change her mind, she leaned over and brushed her lips against Rhiannon’s cheek, murmuring a thank you in her ear. Foolish, perhaps, and certainly forward, but she concluded later on that it had been worth it. Very few people turned such a delightful shade of pink.


	2. Lavender

“So, you see, it’s best to use young lavender for healing potions, and wait for it to mature if you want to use it to affect magicka.” Rhiannon plucked a bud and handed it to Nadine, its fragrance staining her fingers. “What would you do with this one?”

Nadine sniffed it, petals velvety against her palm. It was one of the smaller specimens, growing on Rhiannon’s desk instead of the planter near the window, and its buds were pale purple. “Healing potion?”

Rhiannon beamed and nodded, pruning another stem. They were in her room, Nadine perched on her bed while she sat at the desk and tended to the veritable garden spilling out of her windowsill and onto a haphazard stack of journals and scrolls. Nadine had begun spending most of her afternoons there, fascinated by the sheer abundance of flora her friend had coaxed into filling her quarters. Plants of all varieties battled for dominant space – there were ripe snowberries growing next to lush dragon’s tongue and mountain flowers mingling with lavender and tundra cotton in the windowsills, clay pots of native hanging and emperor parasol moss suspended from the ceiling, and even damp boxes of fly amanita and mora tapinella growing in the cool dark space under her bed. It was a bright oasis in Winterhold’s barren landscape, and Nadine was more than happy to bask in its warmth while Rhiannon cared for her specimens and chattered on about alchemy. More often than not she ended up apologizing for monopolizing the conversation in those moments, but Nadine thought she learned more from their time together than lessons with Drevis or Ingun, if only because Rhiannon didn’t get bogged down in theory for half of it.

“Oh, here’s something fun. If you toast a bit of lavender and mix it with blue mountain flower and butterfly wing, you get a healing potion that also makes your Conjuration spells last a little longer.” She lowered her voice here, conspiratorial. “You don’t really need to add the lavender, since it’s a perfectly good healing potion without, but I think it makes the taste more bearable.”

“Funny, that’s what I do when making dumplings.” Nadine hadn’t had lavender dumplings in ages, not the way her mother used to make them, smeared with fresh jam and sprinkled with moon sugar. Her stomach growled. “Tastes less like a mouthful of perfume that way.”

Rhiannon laughed, setting down her shears. “I’ve never had a lavender dumpling. Are they good?”

“ _Good_?” Nadine put a hand over her heart in mock outrage. “I’ll have you know that a more delicious pastry will never cross your lips – well, unless you’ve tried kouign-amann from Wayrest, _or fars forn,_ or – ooh! Clafouti. Gods, I’d kill for some clafouti.” She sighed, caught up in blissful memories, and Rhiannon cocked her head.

“Clafouti?”

“Oh, it’s amazing. It’s sort of a tart, but you fill it with black cherries and cream and bake it. My mother used to infuse it with lavender and then toast some extra to sprinkle on top. Gives it more dimension.”

“Okay, now you’re just trying to make me hungry,” Rhiannon protested, and they both giggled. “My family’s never been much for cooking, but I always wanted to learn more than just the basics. All these elaborate dishes… it sounds fun.”

“It is,” Nadine assured her. “Occasionally challenging, but fun. I could show you some recipes sometime.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. Whenever you want.”

Rhiannon reached out and touched one of the lavender sprigs, expression thoughtful. She was still shy at times, but little by little Nadine could see her opening up, her petals unfurling, and when she glanced back over she looked nervous and hopeful all at once. “Will you teach me how to make those dumplings you were talking about?”

Nadine grinned. “I’d be delighted.”


	3. Blue

Rhiannon had never cared for dresses. They were uncomfortable, impractical things that itched and caught underfoot, and her mother yelled at her anytime she got them muddy, which was almost always; as she’d gotten older, the dresses had begun to include corsets, which were an instrument of torture unto themselves. One of the many reasons she’d been excited to attend the College was the excuse to wear nothing but her mage’s robes, but her parents, unwilling to send their youngest to a foreign land without the trappings of civilization, had insisted that she take as many of her things as could reasonably fit into one carriage, including a trunk full of nothing but dresses and formal wear – a hint, she suspected, to go to Solitude and ingratiate herself with her uncle and the various nobles of his acquaintance. So far it had done nothing but gather dust in her wardrobe, until Nadine came along.

“Divines, Rhiannon, these are gorgeous! Where have you been hiding them?”

“In the wardrobe,” Rhiannon said, distracted. It was hard not to be distracted around Nadine. Even just sitting next to each other was enough to make her thoughts fuzzy.

“I can see that, but why?” Nadine smoothed a hand over one of the more extravagant gowns, a deep red fabric threaded with gold. Rhiannon shrugged, fiddling with her sleeves.

“I’ve never liked them much. Dresses, I mean. Besides, I don’t have any reason to wear them.”

“Well, thank you for letting me borrow one,” Nadine said, bestowing one of those endlessly dazzling smiles upon her, and Rhiannon flushed, heat creeping up the back of her neck.

“It’s no problem,” she mumbled.

A lie, but a necessary one. It wasn’t that lending clothes was the problem, it was Nadine herself – Nadine, who’d wormed her way into the cracks of Rhiannon’s life and refused to budge, who was kind and curious and fun and beautiful and most unbelievably of all, seemed to like being around her. Rhiannon still couldn’t work out what she wanted. She watched Nadine sort through the pile of fabric, black hair tumbling over her shoulder and her lower lip tucked between her teeth in concentration. Were there others out there capable of rousing this sort of inner conflict? If so, she hadn’t met them, or else they had utterly failed to captivate her the way Nadine did. Her poor heart, unused to the weight of such feelings, fluttered like a frantic little thrush whenever her friend’s name was so much as mentioned in passing; being alone with her was starting to verge on torturous.

“So,” she said, more to escape her thoughts than anything else. “This party you’re going to must be important.”

“Mm, it’s really more of an… intimate gathering among friends. We’re all dressing up, though.”

“Why’s that?”

“For fun.” Nadine tugged an ice-blue gown free from the pile, eyes lighting up. “Ooh, can I try this on?”

“Of course,” Rhiannon said, still puzzling over why anyone would voluntarily subject themselves to formal dress. Maybe it was different for attractive people. “I can leave, if – “

“No, don’t be silly. I want your opinion.” Nadine started undoing the fastenings of her robes, revealing a glimpse of her pale throat. “Besides, it’s your room.”

“Right,” Rhiannon said, staring down at her hands. There was dirt under her nails. There was always dirt under her nails. It had never seemed like it mattered before. She cleaned them with the point of her spare quill while Nadine undressed, not daring to so much as raise her head. Her pulse hammered madly. _This,_ she told herself, _is why you’re a bad person._ A good person wouldn’t have been tempted to look. But then again, what had she expected? She didn’t know how to interact with people. That was why she’d come here, not just for the fresh start but to isolate herself as much as possible. She was dull, she knew, strange and somehow completely ordinary; every conversation, every attempted connection, was a series of potential pitfalls, and she lacked the ability to navigate them with any real measure of success. It was better to preempt the inevitable than to struggle through, waiting for the moment when the light died in people’s eyes and they began to drift away, leaving her behind. She’d been happy enough with her plants and her books and her lessons – well, maybe not _happy_ , exactly, but content, and then Nadine had sprouted up out of nowhere and started to put down roots, and now Rhiannon found herself missing her when she wasn’t around, wondering if she could do something spectacular enough to warrant another kiss on the cheek like that first time, wondering –

“What do you think?” Nadine’s bare feet appeared in her field of vision, silky fabric skimming her ankles. Rhiannon looked up.

Her first thought was that one of Sabine’s old dresses had gotten mixed up in her luggage. There was no way she’d ever owned something so daring. It left Nadine’s shoulders bare and draped across the swell of her breasts, then nipped in at the waist before flaring at the hips, winter-blue silk shimmering silver where the light hit it. A simple design, but it clung to her elegantly, and all her best features seemed sharper in contrast – her black curls and bright eyes, her startlingly red lips like berries against fresh snow. All of Rhiannon’s words tangled in her throat, and she must have stared too long, because Nadine tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and ducked her head, looking almost sheepish.

“Too much?”

“No! No, you look… “ She groped for something that wouldn’t make her sound pathetically infatuated. “It’s beautiful on you. You should wear it to your party.”

“Thank you,” Nadine said, looking relieved, and gave a little twirl, admiring the way the skirt flared out. “It’s really lovely… are you sure it’s okay for me to borrow it?”

“Keep it,” Rhiannon said impulsively, and Nadine blinked at her, startled.

“What?”

“You like it, right? You should have it.”

“Really? I mean, I’d love to, but I don’t want to keep it if you need it back.”

She said it so kindly, so sincerely. Like she really thought something so beautiful would ever suit Rhiannon, as if Rhiannon could ever squeeze into something so flimsy without bursting a seam. An unexpected prickle of tears made Rhiannon’s eyes sting. She blinked them away, smiled instead.

“Really, keep it. It doesn’t fit me, anyway.”


	4. Gold

“Is it bad?”

Rhiannon adjusted Nadine’s ankle, wincing in sympathy when she hissed. “It’s not good.”

“Perfect,” Nadine said, voice strained. She leaned against the tree at her back. “This is exactly what we needed.”

They were just outside Kynesgrove, where the road wound through the sparse pines and dipped into the flatlands. Rhiannon had never been this far outside Winterhold, and she couldn’t help but be glad for it, despite the situation – it was quite a bit warmer than the College. They’d come because Sergius’s enchanting prowess was unrivaled by few in Skyrim, and as such, he often fielded requests for outside work. A bad leg prevented him from making the trips himself, but most of the apprentices jumped at the chance to earn favor and extra coin, and a restless Nadine had convinced Rhiannon to join her on the excursion. _Travel’s always more fun with a friend,_ she’d said, and who was Rhiannon to argue? They’d made good time and arrived in Kynesgrove the previous day, where they’d picked up an amulet from Dravynea the Stoneweaver (a severe, somber Dunmer with extensive facial tattoos), promising to return it as soon as it was ready. They’d set out that morning, determined to make it back before week’s end, but they’d only been on the road for a few hours before disaster struck.

“I think it’s just sprained,” Rhiannon said now, examining the swollen joint once it was freed from Nadine’s boot. Unpleasant, but nothing severe. “Better that than broken.”

“Maybe, but I can’t put weight on it either way.” Nadine ran her hands through her hair, teeth bared in another hiss when she tried to shift her leg. “Gods, I’m such an idiot. I can’t believe I didn’t see that burrow.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Rhiannon admonished gently, rifling through her pack. “Here.” She handed Nadine the waterskin, then rolled her sleeves up to her elbows, one at a time. “You’ll need that in a minute. Healing has a tendency to dehydrate you.”

“See, this is the real reason I brought you along,” Nadine joked, another twinge of pain creasing her brow. Rhiannon shook her head, smiling, and set to work.

She wasn’t good at much, and never had been – she was abysmal at fighting, Destruction and other, more impressive schools of magic were beyond her, and her skills in the practical arts of domesticity were best described as subpar – but Restoration was as natural to her as breathing, and when she cupped Nadine’s ankle, light shimmered in her hands. Nadine’s eyes fluttered closed as golden threads of magicka shot up her leg, twining around her ankle, and the surge of it left Rhiannon’s palms hot. She felt the swelling go down, and when she dared to pour a little more into it, Nadine shifted and made a soft noise that could have been a moan. A natural reaction to the process, involuntary, but it still sent Rhiannon’s heart leaping into her throat. She swallowed and focused on the task at hand, the flow of magicka ebbing, and Nadine opened her eyes, cheeks stained red.

“Sorry,” she said, dazed. “I didn’t know it’d feel like that.”

"That’s normal,” Rhiannon said, her own face hot. The ankle appeared to be in working condition once more, and she rotated it, watching Nadine flex her toes experimentally. “Speaking of which, how does that feel? Any lingering aches or pains?”

“Feels good as new,” Nadine said. Her expression was unbearably sweet, still blissful from the after-effects of the healing. “Thank you. You’re amazing.”

 _Amazing._ The word sent a curl of pleasure through her belly. “It was nothing.” She realized she was still holding Nadine’s ankle and let go, but before she could withdraw her hands completely, Nadine caught one and held on.

“Wait.”

Should she say something? She felt like she ought to say something, but Nadine’s hand in hers had robbed her of words for the moment. It was soft and warm, but surprisingly strong, and when she dared to meet Nadine’s eyes, she saw something that made her breath catch. Nadine moved her foot out of Rhiannon’s lap and sat up, and then she brought Rhiannon’s hand to her cheek, lips ghosting over the inside of her wrist.

“Could you do that again?”

Pinned beneath the hopeful weight of her gaze, Rhiannon sat frozen, trembling like a rabbit in a snare. It had to be a hoax, some skeptical part of her whispered. Some sort of cruel trick, a plan to dangle this in front of her and snatch it away at the last second. But this was Nadine, who’d been nothing but kind, who’d kissed her cheek and listened to her talk about alchemy for hours on end, and she nodded and shuffled closer, sliding her hand around to the back of Nadine’s neck. She closed her eyes and thought about kisses and honey and the feeling of sunlight on bare skin, and golden light dripped from her fingers. Nadine let out a whimper, her body going limp, and Rhiannon wrapped an arm around her waist without thinking, keeping her upright. She traced the line of Nadine’s spine with unsteady fingertips, light bleeding through her clothes, and Nadine melted against her, clutching the front of her robes.

“You’re so beautiful,” Rhiannon whispered without thinking, because it was true, and in response Nadine wrapped her arms around Rhiannon’s neck and kissed her, deep and slow, sweet as summer rain.

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise, Paunchy! Thanks for being awesome, hope you like it.


End file.
